Nightshade
by Ambrosia Ice
Summary: Rosaline Noelle Nightshade, a royal Moroi. Or, well. She used to be moroi until an attack everyone forgot about. It happened hundreds of years ago- before Columbus sailed the Ocean Blue. People don't know her history and it's been so long that she doesn't even remember all of it. She remembers pieces, but after she was turned… nothing mattered. Nothing besides when her next meal
1. Chapter 1

She leaned against the railing, her eyes closed and her black hair dancing in the wind. She didn't want to remember. She didn't want to relive. She'd been on this planet as a monster much longer than not. Her chest clenched as her eyes burned with the need to cry. How she had been selfish. Her family had needed her more than she cared to admit. She leaned over and puked. She stayed in that position until it was just dry heaves.

She clenched her fists before climbing over. It was her fault her family suffered. It was her fault she wasn't dead when over a half century had passed since she should have died. Maybe she could've survived a different way. She prepared to jump, the water below black and , to her, it seemed welcoming. _This is the only way to atone for my sins.._ she thought, swallowing hard.

* * *

_1347, _ _England_

Rosaline closed her eyes, wanting to ignore the destruction going on around her. The humans, Moroi, and Dhampirs alike where falling all around. It was a destruction no one had seen before. The humans.. Well, they were weak. They died off easily; they died off quickly. The Moroi usually didn't get whatever _plague_ was tormenting the humans.

Her brother was a couple years older than her, he should've been the one taking care of them… but after the death of their parents, it seemed the duty fell upon her. She didn't mind; it was a time of darkness and everyone knew it. While the Moroi- especially the Royals- didn't grow as fast as the humans of the time did, they still knew responsibility and it wasn't hard to see that after the plague stroke, they grew mentally. They started to have to think about others than just themselves.

Until this one, that is. The young Moroi was one of the last surviving lines of the Nightshade family. Her mother had been killed early on- a few months prior when the plague first started. She was one of the first Moroi to die. That was when they realized that even the Moroi where not safe. Her stomach clenched but she ignored it. She didn't want to think about how the illness was spreading from human to Moroi. Despite not wanting to think about it, her mind wondered. Was it because they were _living _vampires?

Her mind continued to wonder, despite how much she told herself that she had to keep her focus on her younger siblings. Was it because of the blood? Where they drinking bad blood? She forced a cough down, not wanting to worry her siblings. Everything would be good, right? No one else in there family was going to die… they'd all survive. At least, that's what she told herself.

Everything was getting worse, and it seemed like the more optimistic she was, the worst it got. How could something stay so bad for so long? Where the Strogi suffering, or where they thriving because they were already dead so it didn't matter? She felt curiosity spark, if she were to become Stirogi than she'd have a chance of surviving. Perhaps she was the only one of the family desperate enough to survive through this that becoming an undead vampire seemed like the only option.

After she put her siblings to bed, she moved towards the exit and resurfaced. No one would question her- at least none of the Moroi and Dhampirs. She knew the youngest- Ivory- was already ill. It was just a matter of time before she died.

Rosaline moved slowly, almost savoring the uncomfortable feeling of the burning sun. If everything worked out, then it would be the last day she'd ever feel the sun burning. She blinked softly before she ducked into another hutt. She gazed at the few healthy-looking feeders and strolled over to one of them, sinking her fangs into his neck. A soft moan came from him as she slowly drank. Soon the blood started to taste even more ravishing as she felt the life drain from him.

She straightened her back before snapping the necks of all but one of the other people in the room. She flexed her fingers before turning her compulsion onto the survivor. "Tell me when the sun has gone down." she spat. "And _maybe_ i'll allow you to live."

He nodded, his eyes glazed over as he moved to check if the sun was yet down. "No, Miss, it has yet to go down. It will be soon, though."

She nodded a cold smile on her flawless face. She moved to drink as many people's blood as she could. Her face scrunched up as she drank the still semi-warm blood. It wasn't the same as drinking the life from someone. No, it was much more different. These people were already dead. This was only the first, the others would be much colder by the time she got to them. But she was hungry and she didn't want to kill the only living in the room- he was how she was going to get out without burning.

As she moved to the next body she almost threw the body at the wall. This one was even worse than the one before. It was actually _cold_.

"Miss… The sun is down." He said shakily.

"Good." she laughed and moved towards him. "I have no more use for you," she said as she bit into his warm flesh. It was better than the lukewarm or the cold blood she'd drank. He squirmed, knowing what was coming. She could tell he didn't want to die and she found herself not caring. The lack of emotion was still a surprise to her, even though it had been her choice to make. She moved towards the entrance and embraced the darkness. She broke into a run, her family forgotten about. She was free and she _would_ survive.


	2. Chapter 2

_1502, Spain_

The plague had ended just eight seasons after it had begun; Rosa _almost_ felt shame at turning and abandoning her long dead family. It was strange, having somewhat of a feeling in her dead heart. She stood perfectly still, trying to decide who she wanted to eat next. She was peaky when it came to blood, she'd discovered that decades prior.

While she waited, she listened to the people speak in the tavern behind her. Forty-five years shy of two centuries since her 'awaken' date and she still struggled to control her blood-lust. Perhaps it was from being born at the beginning of the change.

She rolled her eyes with annoyance as her throat burned. How could she be so picky? She needed to eat and it looked like she wasn't going to be getting the certin blood she craved.

It wasn't as if she'd cared at al about the bloodl while she was traveling with Columbus. He'd discovered vampires not many years prior to his first journey. She'd almost been tempted to eat him, but she had been curious as to what India was like, she she'd stayed hidden. Striking fear into the mens' hearts. She's only planned on eating one or two for their journey. But, as it turned out, they were on the boat for over three months.

Rosa had been unhappy with the sailor's horrid sense of direction and had come out one night, to kill him, when she saw land. She didn't care to fight for shelther when the sun came up and she was on the land. It was something she'd like to avoid, having flames burst from her skin. It sounded like a painful death. So, instead, she settled for an sailor who'd seen her. She'd flashed her dangurously sharp, white, teeth as she bit into his neck.

She'd taken to making her prey go mad with pain before she killed them. She enjoyed the broken, insane, look in their eyes before she finished them off. Sometimes, with her prey, she Awakened them just to watch their insane rampage before she killed them. On the boat they where on, however, it was unsafe to do so. So she killed them and left them as a present for the other sailors. She smirked everytime they woke up and saw the dead, boney, body.

Back in the present, she had someone pressed against the wall, digging into his neck, not even bothering to make him turn insane before draining him. It was something she enjoyed doing most. If only she could find a Dhampir or Moroi to kill, then she'd probably have more fun tourturing them than she did with the weak humans. The Moroi were far weaker than humans, especially sence they starting to move away from even learning how to defend themselves with their own powers. They where starting to be easy prey and that was something she wanted to be around for.

She would get a group together and, when the defensive magic died out, they'd slaughter half of the New Royals. She bared her teeth at the thought of the New Royals. There was still some of the ones she knew, but she also knew that being a Royal would eventually go to their heads and they'd forget—if they hadn;t already—that there was two families before their was twleve. She hated that the Nightsade's, her family, and Varinski's would be forgotten and almost non-existiant to the history.

She threw his body in the ocean, her thirst quenshed for a few hours. She'd have to eat before the sun came up and she _retired_ for the night. A laugh almost came out of her mouth as she thought about the expressions on the Humans' face whenever they found _another_ dead body.

_'the ocean witch!'_ they'd often cry and she preyed than when they found this one, that it would be almost Night-Fall and she'd be able to see them. She'd only seen their expression once on land, and she'd enjoyed it. It wasn't as if anything else interesting had happened—besides the descovery of the 'new world'. She didn't know how she felt about a whole new, unexplored place, being out there.

* * *

**I'm trying to get into the habit of updating every week. One the same day, too. So. Be on the look out for Destiny to be updated (and rewriten) by next week. I'll start on Double the Riddle after Destiny, then all my stories will be up to date and being continued. Yay.**


	3. Chapter 3

**_December 1778, Somewhere in New York_**

The four-hundred year old Stirgoi sat at a table with a younger Strigoi male. He was her first turn who she hadn't made insane prior to being turned and then promptly killed. He'd been a human during the French and Indian war. And, up until just a year prior, he'd been serving under General Washington for what everyone of the Colonies believed was a good cause.

Their ideals made her snort in a very unlady like way, though no one paid her any mind. She did, however, get a strange, exasperated, look from her companion. This caused her to roll her eyes. She'd long since taken to some very _unlady _like activities and gestures.

"Oh, Samuel, you really should forget about the pesky manors people of your time have been taught. They are quite tedious." She commented off-handedly.

"My dear Rosaline, I would have thought you would be smarter. After all, you are nearly three hundred and fifty years older than I. Blending is always the best bet."

She rolled her eyes at his words. "Yes, that is true. However, despite how we may try to 'blend in' with the humans, we shall never really _fit_. Those pesky dhampiers have taken to keeping their precious Moroi under guard. Why, when I was still apart of them and their blasted Royal line, they did not blink twice when I 'disappeared'." She said, a bit taken back at the bitterness that had leaked through.

"You are lucky to have never been faced with the pain of watching those around you fall to a strange illness." She didn't realize she was complaining about the circumstances she'd been cursed with when she was just a child. She felt resentment that the Moroi of the time she was didn't grow quiet as fast as she'd been forced to. She descritly glared at her figure.

Eternal Youth? That was just a bonus. She realized now that she'd been a coward, not wanting to die. All to late it was. She was frozen as a monster. The bitterness that had broken through had resurrected memories that she'd rather just forget. Her emotions that she'd felt before she'd awakened herself returned with a vengeance. Shivering, though she didn't feel the slightest bit cold—she never did, not anymore—she forced her emotions away, burying them deep inside herself. She didn't want to feel them. Never again. When she was killed, she'd probably get the same amount of pain she'd dealt.

"Shall we go? The Humans are starting to stare at us. I believe we are the only two that have been here all night."

And it was true, she realized with a jolt, the sun would be up at any minute. _That_ would be fun trying to avoid. As she went to stand, she realized he was already up and extending his hand to help her out of her seat. Arm in arm, the exited the building like they'd planned. Many of the people believed them to be married, because they were often seen together and it wasn't that uncommon for a six-teen year old to be engaged to someone who appeared several years older. They all knew of Samuel Grant; the sole heir to the Grant Legacy. Quietly, the wondered when they were going to have children. Since Rosaline was one of the fairest they could see, they wondered what their children would look like. No doubt, they'd been just as beautiful, if not more so, than Rosaline.

Her lips turned up in a bittersweet smirk. "Samuel, perhaps we should keep the towns people guessing and disappear for several months before returning with a baby that looks like it could have been yours and mine." She said softly. "It would, insure, that they would at least know that, in their eyes, that the Grant family wasn't going exsince. I'd hate for all your fortion to go to waste. Pehaps the children could be raised as little psychopaths that appear normal." She smirked at the idea. One of these days, she really would do it. She'd steal a baby and make it be raised insane.

He narrowed his eyes at her words. "Perhaps, that is not that bad of an idea. I just hate for the children to be condemned to a life of insanity."

She gazed at him. "Do not tell me you actually still have a voice that tells you what is right and what is wrong." Of course he did. It took her years of just _ignoring it_ for it to actually go away.

He shrugged. "We shall disappear tonight and return in mid-may with a newborn.


	4. Chapter 4

_Rosaline, what the hell are you doing?" an angry voice shouted, grabbing her wrist as she started to fall. She couldn't fight back her tears. They freely started to run down her face. The feeling of something salty leaking out of her eyes gave her jolt of shock. Everything was still new, like a child curiously asking their parents why something had to be that way. _

_While it was true that she didn't really want to drown, she didn't know how else to make herself pay for her sins. It wasn't fair how much hurt she'd caused. Why had she ravished in it? _

_"I do not know," She lied in a broken voice. It was a small one, but she felt the need to protect the boy, much like he felt the need to protect her._

_"You're lying!" He growled, pulling her up in one smooth motion. He helped her over the railing and just held tightly onto her as she cried silent tears._

**1978, Ohio**

Rosaline let out a strangled sigh. She and Samuel had long since home their separate ways, though that didn't stop them from doing deeds better left unmentioned when they ran into each other (about every fifty years, give or take a few). While neither cared for the feeling, both ravished in the surprised looks they got when cops showed up. Surprised, grumpy people where the best of treats (next to the Moroi, of course), she'd discovered.

The little little child she and Samuel had raised had turned out perfect. A perfect little phycopath. The kid had raised his children the same. It seemed only a couple years since then, since she was raising something. It caused her joy to know that she was able torture not just the humans by herself, but by a family as well. She was proud of her achievements. How much pain she'd managed to cause.

How many times did she get cops called on her? More than she could count. She still, however, got a thrill, however, of watching the people freak out when they found a body without even a pint of blood.

Laughing rather loudly, she felt the eyes of the humans burn into her. She snorted at their looks of surprise. They were so dull, thinking one had to be talking with another to start laughing.

She prided herself on being one of the longer lasting, unknown, Strigoi in existant. There were few older than she. Three, maybe four, older than she. Most Ancients made themselves known. Most Strigoi lasted maybe a century, maybe a little bit more. The ones who lasted longer (and stayed under the radar) where brilliant. If one could get to the thousand make milestone, with or without being known, then they were more like a God in the eyes of fellow Strigoi.

Despite her, for the most part, having a world be damned attitude, she felt her undead heart jolt at the thought of love. Of course, that just made her want to destroy it even more. Love or lust, the two made no difference to her.

When she was born, it had been the cold season (now referred to as "Winter"), hours before the season changed to the Warm (which, in twentieth century terms " spring"). Seasons had passed before the plague had struck. She figured she had been a teen when it had hit, fourteen. Sixteen when she had killed and became this frozen monster from hell. In all honesty, at that time, she wouldn't have lived past thirty, even as a Moroi.

Frozen with the mentality and looks of a Sixteen year old. No matter how much knowledge or experience she gained, she'd never grow any. With a forced sigh, she turned her attention to something else.

Her red eyes flashed as she moved silently to the side. She had taken Samuels advice, learning how to blend. That required her, Rosaline Mary Nightshade, to keep up with history (as these lowlifes had written). She was appalled to learn how they'd perceived it and how very wrong they'd gotten it.

The plague had been worse. Far worse. These insects couldn't begin to comprehend the terror that had run through them all. While most families had suffered greatly, not every family did. She'd known a few who hadn't even fallen sick. They called it "the black plague" or "the black death".

There were some things that were failed to be mentioned, like how Moroi history failed to mention the two original Royal Families or how devastating the dark plague had been for their race as well.

Even recent history, such as the Spanish Influenza. That had been another illness that had affected all three races. Not as clearly as the other, but it had been enough to kill a few good families. She wondered if those families would be forgotten eventually as well. How could they hide history? Shaking her head she did something she hadn't done in years: she took a fake breath and closed her eyes.

It was draining, no matter how it was seen by Strigoi, to live far longer than one should.


End file.
